


and in the end

by waldowest



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldowest/pseuds/waldowest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Himuro is feeling a little homesick for Christmas in the United States, but it's okay. He can have it in Japan, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and in the end

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of a mess, but it's the first thing i've written in months so bear with me. it's my first work for murahimu and knb in general so i know it could use a little tweaking. there's a lot i might have gotten wrong about japanese culture too, so please correct me if you see any mistakes. it's also five am and i have no idea what i'm doing. regardless! i love these two dumb idiots so much that i had to write something for them. here's to more in the future!

Christmas is different in Japan.

The streets still shine with color, but instead of bright greens and warm reds it’s crisp, icy blues that shimmer underneath the endless stars. They coat the buildings in an artificial snow that drops the temperature three degrees and shakes his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. 

It’s pretty. The people are nice. The air buzzes in a way that only the holidays can produce. 

But it’s different.

Tatsuya almost thinks they haven’t gotten the hang of it just yet, that it blends into the excitement of the coming new year and somehow gets lost under layers of clothing and flavors of spiced coffee. 

It makes him miss the United States. 

He could always find _it_ when he was across the ocean. Doesn’t even know what “it” is, but he isn’t sure he’ll ever find it here.

Until he does. 

 

\-----

 

“Muro-chin?”

It takes three tries before Atsushi, voice thick with sleep and muffled through his pillow and kakebuton, manages to answer on the other end of the line. Even from Tokyo, Tatsuya can see his heavy-lidded eyes close and free hand reach for the bag of Kasugai cinnamon candy kept wedged between the mattress and headboard of his bed. 

It makes his face heat suddenly, like one of those hot cinnamon candies is passed between his lips and stuck underneath his tongue, and as the warmth travels down to his chest, Tatsuya almost forgets that he was the one to call in the first place.

“Muro-chinnnnn,” his whine lingers in the air for a moment before he can gather the energy to continue, “It’s so late.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Atsushi, I just --”

“Muro-chin should be sleeping.”

“I _know_.” 

Neither of them speak for a moment, but even though Tatsuya is sure Atsushi is on the verge of falling back into his dreams, the silence fills a comfortable space between his ribs. 

It’s easy, calm, but a piece of him aches just the same.

“I’m going to come back early,” he worries his bottom lip, searching for any hint of cinnamon that could help him with the words stuck in the back of his throat, “I just wanted to be sure you were still there.”

“Mmmm...”

“That’s not much of an answer, Atsushi.” Himuro chides, but his lips twitch into a small smile at the sound of the hard candy rolling to the other side of Atsushi’s mouth all the same.

“So sleepy, Muro-chin…”

It’s useless now, and honestly, Himuro is even surprised he was able to get Atsushi’s attention in the first place. A few seconds of conversation and a minute or two of breathing is a gift at this time of the night, when he’s curled into a ball and wrapped up in so many layers of warmth.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tatsuya hesitates with the phone still pressed to his ear, hoping for a moment that Atsushi will wake up again and fill his head with sticky thoughts about candy and sweet fruit drinks instead of the homesick whispers that it keeps tossing around, but the only sounds on the other end are as heavy and immovable as the man himself.

 

\-----

 

Visiting Kagami for a few days was nice, but not the cure that Tatsuya thought it would be. 

They can both feel the difference in the air as Christmas draws closer, feel the burn of another country pressing behind their eyes, but a scout from the states calls Kagami the day Tatsuya arrives and the sickness barely registers after that. Instead, the jealousy that Tatsuya tries to drive away with sweat-stained shirts and calloused fingertips comes roaring back to the tip of his tongue and threatens to swallow him whole where he stands.

It’s hard being around Kagami then. Around all of the _good-hearted_ and _pure_ Seirin kids that stick together even after high school is a year past.

Himuro fakes a call from his parents and buys the next bus ticket to Akita that he can get his hands on.

He hopes he’ll sleep on the way, that the coolness of the window and the constant twinkle of Christmas lights might lull him into some sort of peace, but it never comes. His mind twists inside his skull and claws at his eyes with thoughts of Kagami, of Alex, of Atsushi and the rest of the talented assholes in his year, but mostly, it lingers on how much he lacks, replays the mistakes he’s made over the course of his basketball career, and shoves them down his throat until he can hardly see from the pain.

It’s an unpleasant eight hours.

 

\------

 

Tatsuya walks home from the bus stop with his hands tucked in his pockets and his chin dipped into the scarf hanging around his neck, kicking at a few pebbles along the way. He wishes he could just snap his fingers and be done with the winter blues hovering around his head, but the fog is so thick and dense that he can hardly breathe.

It clears momentarily when he opens the door to the apartment and runs into a giant, purple-haired brick wall, whose hands clamp down on his shoulders and force him back into the hall. 

“Muro-chin needs to leave.”

“What?”

Tatsuya can only blink up at the man pressing him backwards, with lips set like stone and a strange gleam shining in the back of his eyes. It’s a look he only sees on the basketball court, when Atsushi is provoked into breaking open his chest so that the world can witness how much his heart beats for that stupid sport. Himuro forgets how to breathe, teetering dangerously at the edge of his composure with only Atsushi’s large palms keeping his feet on the ground.

He doesn’t know what he’s done, what possible situation he could have stumbled into that would cause such a reaction from his _boyfriend_ , but he was so close to sliding into the warmth of their home, the comfort of sugary kisses and sweaters five sizes too big, that he feels like he might break in half under such a suffocatingly familiar weight.

But Atsushi’s eyes soften at the look on Tatsuya’s face, his hands melting into Tatsuya’s shoulders until they seem to touch his heart. “It’s not finished. You’re early.”

“I told you last night that I was coming back, Atsushi…”

He knows. He was half asleep, but he always listens to what Muro-chin says, especially when it sounds like his pretty voice is cracking in two with every added syllable. “Muro-chin…” Atsushi wrestles with himself for a moment, because it isn’t finished and he had so many plans that had to be tossed aside because Muro-chin decided to come back early, but the air around the smaller man is so weighted and thick that Atsushi thinks he might try to run away and never come back if he doesn’t have a door shut behind him.

“Ph.” Atsushi drapes one of his large hands over Himuro’s eyes and pulls him gently back into the apartment, using his free hand to grab a lollipop from the bowl by the door. “Muro-chin ruined it, but…” He nudges the door shut with the back of his heel and drops his hand, immediately using his fingers to tear the candy free from its wrapper.

Himuro loses the inside of his lungs at the sight in front of him, at the boxes of ornaments and lights and tinsel stacked around the apartment, at the Christmas tree taking up half the living room. There are already a few decorations scattered around, some candy shaped ornaments hanging from the tree, a star crookedly perched at the top. It smells like pine and sweet strawberries, but there’s a warm apple candle half-opened on the kitchen table. 

“You… you did this?” Tatsuya’s chest constricts when he turns to look towards Atsushi, who’s hardly paying attention as he bends to the floor and begins digging through a bag of assorted hard candies.

“No. Muro-chin ruined it.” His shoulders shrug, the lollipop switches to the other side of his mouth, and his body sinks completely to the floor, but he avoids looking Himuro in the eye. It’s then that Himuro notices the slight sheen on Atsushi’s forehead, the way his extra long sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and the faint shade of pink on either side of Atsushi’s nose. 

Maybe it’s a culmination of things, maybe it’s such a sudden change of the atmosphere surrounding his heart, but Himuro can feel the corners of his eyes prickling at the pressure threatening to escape with each beat of his chest. He slips his bag off of his shoulders and steps close enough to drop his hand to the top of Atsushi’s head, tilting it back so their eyes can finally lock. 

“Thank you.”

Himuro feathers his lips against Atsushi’s forehead and lingers for a moment at the slight taste of salt still stuck to his skin. 

“I don’t like it,” Atsushi’s body vibrates underneath Himuro’s touch, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’s pouting or pulling another candy from its wrapper. “So much work. Don’t know how Muro-chin did this every year.” 

“Well, I had _help_ , for one. My family.” 

Himuro brushes aside a few strands of hair that are falling in front of Atsushi’s eyes and grins at what looks suspiciously like a genuine box of Pocky wedged between branches of the Christmas tree.

“Muro-chin has family.” A few large fingers reach up and grab the hem of Himuro’s jacket, tugging him closer until he’s forced to bend at the knees and meet Atsushi on eye level. “See? This is family.”

“Yeah.” Himuro doesn’t remember being passed a candy, but there’s one suddenly stuck in his throat, blocking anything and everything that wants to be said from even reaching his tongue. He nods instead, trying half-heartedly to swallow before attempting anything else. “Yeah, it is.”

Maybe it’s different. Christmas. Japan. Everything. 

But that doesn’t mean it’s worse. 

And it doesn’t mean he won’t find what he’s looking for.


End file.
